<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>To Steve, With Love by Artemis_Day</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28173642">To Steve, With Love</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artemis_Day/pseuds/Artemis_Day'>Artemis_Day</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Christmas Party, Darcy is Awkard, Darcyland Secret Santa, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Gift Giving, Mutual Pining, Secret Santa</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 19:55:52</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,789</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28173642</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artemis_Day/pseuds/Artemis_Day</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When Darcy gets Steve as her Secret Santa, it seems like the perfect time to confess her feelings for him. Now if only she can find the right gift.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Darcy Lewis/Steve Rogers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>105</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Darcyverse Secret Santa</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>To Steve, With Love</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/myracingthoughts/gifts">myracingthoughts</a>.</li>



    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Darcy stared at the slip of paper in her hand. The Avengers Thanksgiving bash carried on around her as Tony and Pepper brought out the dessert trays and everyone dug into slices of French silk and pumpkin pies. Darcy’s stomach, which a moment ago would’ve demanded pumpkiny goodness, was as silent as a rock and sinking like one. She closed her eyes and opened them again. She did it a second time and then a third.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No change.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was still Steve Rogers’ name on the paper. Written in big block letters so she could never mistake them for anything else.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Son of a bitch,” she muttered, rubbing her forehead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky Barnes, munching on a slice of French silk, frowned at her. “What’s your problem?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Problem?” Darcy shot up. “Who has a problem? Not me, that’s for sure. No problems at all for Darcy Lewis. Not a one. No… no problems…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As she trailed off, he raised an eyebrow. “You got the punk for Secret Santa, didn’t you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Darcy’s eyes bugged out. “How’d you know that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, first of all, you just told me,” Bucky said, grinning like the jackass he was. “Second, because you’ve been sweet on him since last Spring and everyone knows it. You wouldn’t make a face like that if you were shopping for Banner is all I’m saying.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Darcy reworked her expression into near passivity before responding. “Okay, so what if I’m shopping for Steve? That’s no big deal. I can find him a present easy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, but can you talk to him for five seconds without flashing back to your latest wet dream?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How did you know I-” Darcy stopped as Bucky’s grin widened. “Oh, you son of a bitch.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a laugh, Bucky set aside his empty plate. “Just get him some art supplies or a new pair of gloves or something. Can’t go wrong with practicality. Especially when you’re lovesick.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am not lovesick, you… big jerk! Who’d you even get?” Darcy snatched the slip of paper off the end table next to him. “Jane? Ha! No problem there. Just show up at her place naked with a big gift bow on your head.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky’s face contorted. “Jane would </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> want that… would she?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How should I know? I’m just her best friend.” Shoving her hands in her pocket, Darcy marched to the door. “Tell Tony thanks for the food. I’ve got shopping to do!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good luck,” Bucky called after her. “This oughta be good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>**</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Darcy had all her Christmas shopping done. It had taken four weeks, including one ill-advised trip to the mall on Black Friday (those bruises took forever to heal), but now, finally, every name on her list had been crossed off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A new winter coat for Jane. Her old one had holes in the pockets.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A book of cookie recipes for her mom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A box of fancy chocolates for her dad.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Some kind of Minecraft toy thing for her obnoxious little brother. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Darcy went down the list, checking and rechecking that everything had been wrapped and labeled accordingly. After giving it a fifth once over, there was nothing left to do with her crumpled and waterlogged shopping list. Nothing except turn it over and expose her shame.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘Steve Rogers- ???’</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She wrote it in tiny letters days ago and spent far too long pretending it wasn’t there. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Needling something else to look at, Darcy lifted her head. The calendar was right in front of her, with tomorrow, December 24th, clearly marked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up,” Darcy grumbled, wishing she had heat vision or laser eyes. “I still have time. The party isn’t until tomorrow. I can get something for him by then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just to prove it to her scenic European landscapes wall calendar, Darcy whipped out her phone and opened the Amazon app. Then she closed it again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, so it’s too late to order something online, but the stores are still open goddammit! I’m going to get him the best present he’s ever seen, and he’s going to be so happy he’ll cry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh yes, he would. Darcy could see it now. There they’d be at the Avengers and Friends Christmas Party. All the other, lesser, gifts will have been handed out, unwrapped, and marked for return or for storage. While the guests made platitudes of thanks, Darcy would saunter up to Steve with her perfectly chosen gift, wrapped perfectly in perfect wrapping paper with a perfect bow on top. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve would be positively euphoric when he opened it. “Oh Darcy,” he’d say, sweeping her into his giant super soldier arms, “this is the greatest gift anyone has ever given me! What can I ever do to repay you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, Steve, you don’t owe me a thing. Just seeing you happy is all the gift I need.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But there must be something I can do for you...” and as his eyes grew dark and their breath mingled, it would only be a matter of time before-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She kissed an inflatable Santa.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Darcy threw it aside with a shriek. It bounced off the pine needle garland strung up over the fireplace and nearly knocked over the Snowbabies display. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dammit, Jane! Stop leaving this shit everywhere!” Darcy shouted at no one. Jane was out finishing her own Christmas shopping today. “Gah- fuck it. I’m going back to the store, and I am not leaving until I have the best damn gift Steve Rogers has ever seen! Do you hear me? I’m not done yet!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The calendar, being a calendar, did not reply.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just wait.” Darcy grabbed her coat and wallet and stormed out the door. “Just you wait and see. I am the best damn shopper in history. This is going to be sooo easy. You’ll see!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>**</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am the worst shopper in history. Why is this so fucking hard?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Darcy was in the middle of department store number six, surrounded by watches and shoes and tie clips and glassware and cologne bottles and blenders and a million other things that simply were not right for Steve Rogers. Some of them were kind of okay. Others were semi-decent. A few things she briefly considered fell firmly into the category of ‘How Drunk Do You Have To Be To Buy This?’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nothing was right.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Nothing</span>
  </em>
  <span> was right!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She had no idea what to do anymore. An entire day of shopping, utterly wasted. The only thing she’d bought was a sandwich for lunch and a tube of lipstick. The former was in her stomach and the latter was not Steve’s color. She was absolutely doomed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christmas Eve was tomorrow. The party would end with everyone except Steve getting an amazing gift. Darcy could see it now. Poor Steve surrounded by wrapping paper and presents that weren’t his. The pain and disappointment on his face when he realized it was Darcy who failed him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Christmas is ruined,” he would declare. “I’m sorry, Darcy, but I can no longer stand to look at you! My sorrow is too great.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course, the real Steve, being from Brooklyn, would probably use a lot more colorful language than her imaginary Steve. It might even hurt a little less if he did, or maybe it would just make it worse. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This sucks,” Darcy mumbled, curling up on the bench. “This sucks sucks sucks sucks.”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As she moped and moaned, a long shadow fell over her. It hovered, clearly human in shape. Probably the store manager come to demand she put all this stuff back. Not ready to face the music just yet, Darcy didn’t bother turning around. A male voice coughed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Darcy. You doing some last-minute shopping, too?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was not dream!Steve. Darcy knew it because out of all the Steve related fantasies she’d ever had, none of them involved running into him at the store. He sounded way too close to be made up anyway, and when Darcy finally turned her head, it was a familiar pair of baby blue eyes staring back at her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Steve,” she squeaked. “Uh… Steve. Hi. Good to see you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You too,” he said, picking up a pair of earmuffs which definitely weren’t his color. “You sure got a lot of stuff here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, it's for my secret Santa,” Darcy’s evil, traitorous lips said as her brain cried out in anguish.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve nodded. “Ah. Of course. I took care of mine a few weeks ago.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who’d you get?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Clint. I bought him a new set of gloves. His old ones are pretty worn out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, he’ll like that,” Darcy said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She went over everything she had one more time. Twenty-two items that would all have to be returned to their proper places around the store before she left. The whole job would take at least half an hour, and there were two hours left before closing. That would leave her ninety minutes to flail like a headless chicken and not actually buy anything. Assuming the thickening silence between them didn’t suffocate her first.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you need any help?” Steve asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” She mumbled in a daze.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Finding a gift, I mean. Who’s your Secret Santa?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No!” Darcy leaped to her feet and startled a passing store associate. “I mean no… no telling until tomorrow. Don’t you know that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve blinked. “Er- no. I thought that only counted for the person we’re buying for.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, you were wrong,” Darcy said, spitting out words as they came to her. “I shouldn’t even know what Clint is getting. What if I accidentally spill the beans? Christmas would be ruined.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you and Clint speak often?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...okay nevermind. Um… I just kind of want to do this myself I guess. It’s my gift. I should be able to find something on my own.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hated pouting, especially in front of Steve. It couldn’t be helped, though. This was a miserable mess she’d gotten herself into, and if she couldn’t pull herself out of it, what good was she?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As if hearing her internal pity party, Steve gave her an encouraging look. “I’m sure whoever it is will love your gift no matter what. No need to get so worked up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not worked up,” Darcy declared as the pen she’d been holding in her airtight grip finally snapped in two. “Uh… okay, maybe a little. I just want this to be a good Christmas for y- for my giftee. You know…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve nodded. “Well, I think as long as it comes from the heart, they’ll appreciate it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Despite the tension in her bones, she giggled. “That’s kind of cheesy, Rogers.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” he said, “but it’s true.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was, and now that Darcy had a moment of calm, clarity came to her like a speeding train. Of course, she knew what to get. It was obvious from the start, wasn’t it?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks, Steve,” Darcy said, standing up. “I’ve got some shopping to do. I’ll see you tomorrow?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t wait,” he said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Darcy’s heart skipped several beats as she forced her legs into forward motion. She knew he was talking about the party, not seeing her again. Obviously, that wasn’t what he meant. No reason at all to get her hopes up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Some things just can’t be helped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>**</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Avengers Christmas party was going even better than the Thanksgiving bash. Hot chocolate and eggnog cascaded from a fountain Tony had built especially for the occasion. Christmas music played intermittently with rock and smooth jazz, eliminating the annoyance factor. The lounge was decked out with garlands and wreaths, bells and baubles. A Santa’s workshop display took up the far corner while a massive Christmas tree covered the window.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Presents were piled from floor to ceiling. Many of them were for Morgan, while others bore the names of Clint’s kids and Scott’s daughter. While the children played with their new toys, the adults gathered to begin the long-awaited Secret Santa exchange.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Darcy predicted, Clint loved his new gloves and gave Steve a clap on the shoulder for his troubles. Tony received a Team Cap T-shirt and a book of Dad Jokes, and wasn’t nearly as offended by either gift as Natasha might have hoped. Thankfully, she was too busy admiring her new set of knives from Agent Hill to really care. Bucky, in the end, had gotten Jane a mini-tool kit for fixing telescopes with her name engraved on the lid. Judging from the look in her eyes and the way she cozied up to him, that ‘gift bow’ thing was not off the table. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>While trying on the new snow boots Pepper had gotten her, Darcy watched with anxious eyes as the pile of presents dwindled down to nothing. Soon only a few were left, including one flat package covered in snowman wrapping paper and bearing Steve Rogers’ name.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, Cap, this one’s for you,” Tony said, passing the gift along to Steve. “From Lewis, too! What do you know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, how about that?” Steve muttered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t look at Darcy once as he tore into the wrapping paper. That meant he didn’t see her eyes go wide or her shoulders shake or her fingers curl as she fought the urge to rip the package out of his hands and throw it out the window. Doubt seized her for the first time since she bought it. She’d been so sure this was the perfect gift for him, but what if she was wrong? What if he actually hated it? What if he said he liked it but then rushed to the store to exchange it when her back was turned? What if-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wow,” Steve breathed, holding the leatherbound journal to the light. It had a gold stitched tree on the cover and a silver key attached to a strap. The pages were edged in gold and the inside cover bore Steve’s name in graceful calligraphy. Darcy wished she could say she wrote it herself, but the hole in her pocket where twenty dollars had once been said different.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I uh… I thought maybe you’d like something to write stuff down in… or draw. I know you like to draw. Got your name engraved in case anyone forgot it was yours, so… you know…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her mouth finally stopped moving, giving her stomach time to sink as two seconds went by and Steve’s face didn’t change. On the third, he smiled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is amazing,” he said, flipping through the lined white pages. “I love it. Thank you, Darcy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t quite like her image of this moment, either one of them. It was in a weird middle ground where she was pretty sure he was serious but her anxiety wouldn’t let her fully accept it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You do?” she asked, breathlessly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course I do,” Steve said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because if you don’t, I can return it. I can-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Darcy, look at me,” Steve said, resting a hand on her shoulder and looking deep into her eyes. “I love it. I really do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She nodded, her body numb. “I’m glad.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As the party went on around them, Steve led her to the couch by the fireplace. It was far from secluded as Cooper and Morgan raced their new toy cars over their feet, but the fire was warm and the cushions were soft. He held the journal in his lap, running his hand lovingly over the cover. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were really stressed out about this, weren’t you?” he asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Darcy blushed. “Was it that obvious?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>”Just a little, ” Steve said, his own face tinged pink. “No offense.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“None taken,” Darcy said, sighing. “I always do this. I think to myself ‘If I don’t get the perfect gift, it’ll be a disaster.’”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, come on,” Steve said. “To be honest, I would’ve liked anything you gave me just because it came from you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Darcy snorted like a pig, ducking her head down. “You don’t need to go that far just to cheer me up, Rogers.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he didn’t laugh with her. “I mean it, Darcy.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When she lifted her head, their lips almost brushed. That near contact sent shockwaves through her system. What would it be like to kiss him for real? That was a question she’d asked herself every day for years. Maybe now was the time to finally find out...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look out!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A toy plane flew between their heads. Darcy jumped back just in time to avoid getting her lips sliced off by the blades. It slammed into the cushion and landed in Steve’s lap. Cooper grinned innocently as he raced over.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry!” he said, taking the toy back from Steve.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>While Laura Barton reprimanded her son, Darcy righted herself and she and Steve shared a nervous laugh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Next year, I’m getting gift cards,” Darcy said, resting her head on his shoulder.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve kissed her cheek. “Works for me.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>